


Everything You Wanted

by Tinalbion



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26501863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tinalbion/pseuds/Tinalbion
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	Everything You Wanted

There was a hit.

It happened before anyone had caught wind of the incident outside of the UK and you were incredibly thankful for the inside tips that were sent your way, though it was thanks to the amount of money you paid for news like this. 

You had become one of the most sought after journalists in your field, which had been the more gory side of things, and you had even dabbled into the paranormal sides of it when it took an intriguing twist. It took a lot of hard work and hard-set credibility, but you climbed your way to the top and kept your position as a freelance writer.

What was even more impressive is that it had only been a few weeks since the incredibly surprising incident that took place at Heelshire Manor, and that was a difficult story to keep covered up with the two homicides -both past and present. You gathered everything you needed last minute and booked your flight to England, the anticipation of the story kept you up through the many hours during the flight, knowing damn well that it would be such a huge payoff.

You never expected anything to happen that was out of your control.

When you had finally arrived at the airport ten hours later and you were completely drained and in need of a comfortable bed, you figured you’d get some decent food in your stomach and pass out till the morning. You had made sure to pay your insider well enough to keep everything contained, but you had a set amount of time to get in, get the details, and get out. With a few more persuasive texts and another filled out check, you figured they could grant you a little bit of an extension if you needed it. 

Of course, that didn’t happen as planned, instead, you picked at your food in the hotel room while scrolling over several scattered articles about the Heelshires that you managed to collect from your company before you had even gotten on the plane. It didn’t make sense, and yet, you’ve watched so many horror movies that it did make perfect sense. The boy had apparently perished in a fire back in 1991, but somehow a strange porcelain doll had been bestowed with the same name as their son, which the Heelshire’s cared for as if it were their own child out of fear. 

According to the eyewitness report of Greta Evans, she discovered that the real Brahms was alive and living within the walls of the mansion, and the reason for his parents’ suicide was they wanted to be free of him. It was all so…crazy? Nah, you’ve heard and seen things no one would believe, this was something you had been used to for years, and it wouldn’t stop here.

* 

Once you awoke bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, it was time to get to work, so you showered and filled your bag with everything you’d need for your trip out to the abandoned home along with planning to stop at a fast-food place for a meal to-go. The police presence was long gone and the press had even steered clear from the grounds, afraid that it was cursed. Maybe the lands were now, but that’s why you were called; you would dig deep into this story and break it wide open.

You stared up at the large mansion after you had snuck in through the iron gates, which were carelessly left open by the nosey public, and you had second thoughts about whether or not entering was a good idea as you made the long walk up the driveway. You were getting paid big money to do this, you had to keep reminding yourself that this was YOUR idea in the first place. You shook your head and pushed yourself to walk up the front steps, the large wooden door had opened easily as you pushed it and the loud creak alerted everything of your presence now. 

What if the man was still alive?

It was a bit too late to psych yourself out of this now that you were several feet within the home, the stale air filling your lungs. It hadn’t even been long since the body had been found here, where a man literally lived in the walls. You silently made your way room to room, alert as you took note of everything on your small recorder. 

“February twenty-sixth, nine thirty-two am, I am standing within Heelshire Manor and it’s dead silent, several smells hit you as soon as you walk in, and the overall feeling of death lingers here. The energy is strong, very strong.” You click the stop button and continue to walk the room, tempted to go up the grand staircase, but you wait. 

You are sure to note any sounds you make as you walk, recording everything on another handheld recorder. Better safe than sorry. But sometimes there had been sounds you couldn’t explain. The house is settling, it’s old, that happens. It would only convince you for so long. 

Brahms was never found after the incident, though the paramedics had noted there had been a lot of blood that belonged to more than one person, and even Greta had stated she stabbed the man. Was he dead, did he crawl off somewhere to die in peace, or did he survive his injuries and take off to somewhere less sinister? 

He wouldn’t leave. This was the only life he knew and he probably had the sense that life outside these walls would not be very welcoming to someone like him. But how would he have hidden after the police searched this place inside and out? 

The guest house, you figured. Once you heard about the story, you studied everything from the blueprints of the manor to each word that was stated in the police report. They never would have checked there if Greta didn’t figure to mention it. He never left the house, anyway, so it wouldn’t be too strange to write it off. 

Once you had seen all the first floor had to offer, it was time to climb the stairs. The creaking didn’t surprise you, it had only heightened your senses as your body pounded with fear, because who really knew what secrets this place was holding. 

Maybe it had been your mind playing tricks, but you swore you heard something coming from the far end of the hallway, though it could have easily been rats or other creatures that feasted on flesh. The scent of blood hadn’t been doused just yet. 

As you took another step forward before your foot had even tapped against the hardwood floor, you heard it again; a heavy footstep that made the floor creak ahead of you. Your heart began to pump as your body froze into place, afraid that either you interrupted a squatter in his new abode or you grabbed the attention of a cursed doll. The odds were against you regardless since you strolled into a crime scene with no way of defending yourself. Great. 

The lump in your throat tightened as you neared the far end of the hall where a door had been slightly open, and you swore you saw something rush past the opening, but again, you were so busy with trying to convince yourself that you were just imagining things. The rats that probably now occupied the walls were just making you believe that Brahms was still here. 

Your mind traveled to dark places, because what if he were here? Would he kill you, let you leave, chase you out? It was honestly a situation that could go one way or the other very quickly, and you really didn’t want to find out if he’d easily bury a weapon within your gut. Although it would be amazing to see someone who was supposed to be dead twice now, to run into a potential murderer was quite the exhilarating thought. 

To be honest, you had a thing for him since the first time you read about this. A mysterious man with a troubled mind hidden within the walls, it was all so unreal, so did you take this story for the money or for the man? It wasn’t important right now since you had heard a loud thud come from a few feet ahead of you, the creaking was too loud to be anything but a person in the house with you. 

“Hello, anyone there? I’m not armed,” you stated mainly for your safety, but you also remembered that you had been recording yourself as you explored the house. You quickly whipped out the handheld recorder and clicked the button. “I’m in the Heelshire Manor, second floor, and I keep hearing movement down the hall, possibly in the walls.” Click. 

“My name is (Y/N), I’m a journalist from America,” you began but quickly trailed off as you heard another scuffle of steps, the hairs raised on the back of your neck as you took a step back. 

The last thing you needed was to get murdered before even publishing anything about the mansion and if it was actually haunted, but you barely had time to react when you had watched a grown six-foot-tall man come from a hidden door in the wall. At first, it wasn’t something you thought that was considered real, but there he was in all his glory, just like in the report of Great Evans; a tall man with a glass face, a doll’s face.

You wanted to scream and to run out of there, hoping he wouldn’t be able to keep up with you as you made your escape, your body screaming at you to do it, but you remained there, glued to the spot. The state of him was wretched and it smelled as if he hadn’t bathed in weeks mixed with the dirt that had been caked on his clothes. It wasn’t pleasant to look at him while your heart pounded, fearful that he’d lash out at you and make sure you’d never leave the manor, but you stupidly stared at him in a mixture of awe and terror. He could tell as he stared down at you through the eyes of his porcelain mask.

The man’s head tilted to the side slightly. “What do you want…?” his gruff voice asked you as he remained a few feet away, weary of your presence. 

He was used to strangers now entering his home, but you were alone and unarmed, which had been the complete opposite of the usual frequent visitors.

“I-I’m (Y/N), as I said, I wanted to-”

“She didn’t send you, did she?” he interrupted.

You looked at him in confusion but didn’t miss a beat. “No one sent me, I came here to write a story about you and your home for my local paper…” You tried to swallow the growing lump in your throat as you stood your ground to show him you weren’t afraid, even if your face betrayed you.

He was silent as he took a cautious step forward, his fingers playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve as he stared at you intently. 

You cleared your throat and pulled out the recorder from your pocket, the one that hadn’t been recording your entire walkthrough, and you showed it to him. “I was hoping to see if this place was haunted, but you being here proves that theory wrong.” Keeping yourself talking only helped you, lord knew how well it would work for him. “Are you Brahms Heelshire?”

He said nothing, he didn’t move a muscle as he stood there and tried to convince himself just to be rid of you, but the way you said his name without fear or disgust had him change his mind. 

With a sigh, you placed the recorder back in your pocket and continued to watch him with interest. “I’m sorry if I disturbed you, Brahms, I only wanted to talk. I can leave if you want me to.”

“No,” he snapped, though his tone softened after that as he continued to watch you.

“Okay, that’s fine with me,” you agreed and decided to just sit cross-legged in the middle of the hallway. This way, you showed to be vulnerable and willing to listen. “Come, sit.” You patted the carpeted floor in front of you as you looked up at him with a smile, the feeling of your fear receding the longer you faced off with the man. 

Brahms was hesitant at first but wanted so desperately to listen, the regularity of following rules and listening to what he had been told to do, he had craved it and missed it. Seeing how eager you were to sit with him, he bit his lip beneath the mask as he suddenly walked forward, his back hunched as he slumped down before you and mimicked your sitting position. 

This caused you to smile as you had somehow had the illusion of domestication over this alleged killer, but you hadn’t let your guard down as you came face to face with him. You held out a hand to show you were only reaching into your bag for something and you slowly pulled out a small notepad and a pencil.

Brahms had watched you carefully, his attention now on the notepad as he took the time to look at all of the scribbled drawings on the front cover, then his eyes flickered back up to yours. “What is it that you want?” His voice had gone even softer now, more child-like as he spoke to you. 

You looked up from the paper and smiled again, all fear fading as you lowered the notepad momentarily to take a better look at him. His dark hair was curly and seemed to be rather soft just by the looks of it, and you had noticed that a full beard had peeked out from under the doll mask he wore, which you already knew why he wore it. 

Be good to him and he’ll be good to you.

“I was very curious to hear about what happened recently in this home, I wanted to see if there was someone still here, I hoped you were here.”

This grabbed his attention. You had hoped for him? This had to be another dirty trick, they were all the same here, they would leave him or hurt him. Just like her, like Greta. 

“Me?”

“Yeah, of course!” you said rather excitedly, “I want to know about you, Brahms. I have read much about you before coming here, actually." 

What you truly wanted here was simple.

You looked at him with a lopsided grin, wondering just went on in his head at this moment as he surveyed you in silence. "You must think I’m crazy, some stranger shows up in your home and questions you, and for that, I do apologize. But ever since I read about you, Brahms, I was intrigued by you. You’re alone here now, aren’t you?”

The man hesitated for a moment but then nodded sadly.

Your smile faltered a little as you watched him. “You hid from them, right? You didn’t want to be found so you made sure not to show any sort of presence here, yeah?”

Another nod. He felt like he could tell you more about everything that had transpired in the mansion, but he didn’t know you, you had barged in here and acted as if you owned the place. Though there was something about you that made him feel comfortable, at ease in your presence which was something he hadn’t felt very often, even around his parents after so long. 

“Will you tell them I’m here?” he asked with that child-like voice, his eyes still staring into your own through the mask. 

You wondered just what his face looked like under it. “No, that’s not why I’m here. I’m here to just find out more about you and to make sure you’re okay here on your own. It must be a huge difference from having several people here to none, so I am here to make your life a bit easier.”

Why on earth you had suddenly offered your help was beyond you, but you felt the air around this man and you ached for his losses. He was alone, nowhere to go and no way to survive for long.

“In the report, it said you were stabbed, are you alright? May I see?” 

Brahms was now back on high alert as you leaned closer to him, his hands formed into fists as he quickly made it back to his feet, you following quickly after. You held up your hands and showed him you didn’t mean harm, your face giving your feelings away as he saw the pity in those pretty eyes of yours. His breathing turned heavy as he felt the need to flee back into the comfort of his own room, but you reached down into your bag and grabbed something from it.

“I figured you’d be hungry,” you offered as you slid the bag toward him on the floor, “I know it’s not much for now, but I can bring back more appropriate essentials for you if you’ll let me.”

You were baiting him, that was only partly the truth, but you did want to gain his trust and help him now that you were here, and possibly develop his trust further. After leaving the bag of food on the floor, you backed away and allowed him to take the next step, whether that was to be away from you or toward you. 

“I only want to talk to you,” you continuously assured him, “I promise you I won’t leave you.”

His head turned up to meet your gaze once again, the nightmare of the scene replayed in his head as he begged that bitch to stay, he had given himself to her and she betrayed him. It hurt both physically and mentally, he was alone now with no one to be there for him. He wasn’t even sure where to begin, many times the thought of ending it had taken hold of his thoughts, that is until you decided to stumble in. You were willingly staying here, talking to him and feeding him, was there a motive? 

Right now he didn’t mind, so long as he had you here and you wouldn’t hurt him. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

And you would be the one to make him feel alive again. This was everything you wanted.


End file.
